The Blue Devils
by Lord Jareth
Summary: I finally decided to update this. Dreams... or nightmares... run rampant.
1. Welcome to the Island

Disclaimer: I don't own Monster Rancher or any particular breed of monster unless stated specifically that it has not been used by the company of the creation of Monster Rancher (in English that means Tecmo). I do, however, own the characters, story and setting, so please don't steal them.  
  
  
  
~  
  
  
  
A young Celios (Centaur/Tiger) trotted down a rocky hillside. A shimmering white medallion gleamed against his chest as it bounced from side to side like a hypnotist's pendant. The young monster didn't even seem to notice when the chain began to wear down and the links holding the medallion began to break one by one.  
  
A Monol snuck from the shadows to fall into stride beside the Celios. The sight would have been thoroughly comical—a Celios barely old enough to wield his spear followed by an old-looking Monol—except for the fact that the Celios wore a cold expression no one—human or monster or otherwise—should ever have to wear at his age.  
  
The Celios ground to a halt and the Monol went skidding past him. "Fool," he spat. "You dare trespass on our land and try to run with Æseri?" Æseri lifted his spear and hurled at the Monol as hard as he could.  
  
The mood was ruined as the spear fell short and skidded to a halt in the dust five yards behind the Monol, who walked on, oblivious to all that was going on around him. "Damn!" Æseri spat in the dirt. "Five damned yards! I was so close to getting rid of the filthy…" he trailed off, calling the Monol every filthy name he could think of and a few more that he made up on the spot.  
  
"Hmmm… not bad." A Striker (Naga/Tiger) slithered up to him. "I especially liked those last few… I've never heard them before."  
  
"I made them up," Æseri muttered. "It was nothing. Really."  
  
"That's your problem," the Striker said matter-of-factly.  
  
"What's my problem?" Æseri snapped.  
  
"You're an idiot, my dear Æseri. A pathetic, blithering idiot." The Striker laughed emptily. "You've got to learn… we don't care if you curse until your tongue falls out. All you need to do is know when to shut up and you'll be fine."  
  
Æseri looked at the Striker suspiciously. "Who are you?"  
  
The Striker laughed. "Technically speaking, my name's Жئصغشسيشصطعكم٤, but since nobody but my *own* kind can pronounce that, I'm called Sting." He grinned at Æseri, who clutched the sides of his head as the realization of Sting's name washed through his brain.  
  
"Ouch…" he muttered. "How can even *you* pronounce a name like that?"  
  
**********  
  
"Fang! FANG! Listen to me, damn it!" a Mint (Pixie/Tiger) flew frantically to catch up with a Hound Dragon (Dragon/Tiger). "FANG!! Damn it…" The Mint charged up a Lightning attack in her hands and blasted Fang.  
  
"What?" Fang turned his head to face the Mint. "Oh, hullo Jen. What do you want? Where have you been these past few days? When did you start wearing Black? Oh, and don't forget, 'What is the meaning of life?' What is it?"  
  
Jen rolled her eyes. "Old Sting's causing trouble again. Go straighten him out."  
  
"Why me?"  
  
"Dævoro said to send you. *I* certainly won't be tangling with Sting."  
  
"You can *screw* Sting for all I care, Jen. Why does Dævoro always send me? Why not anyone else? And why is it always Dævoro who handles him? Is Lucifer too high and mighty?"  
  
"I don't know what Lucifer's up to and I don't know why Dævoro always sends you. Happy? Now GO!"  
  
"Why is it that even though you wear Gray and he wears Orange, you find him intimidating? If he were your superior, *he* would be the one wearing Gray."  
  
"JUST GO, damn it!" Jen flew off, muttering some rather uncomplimentary things about Fang under her breath.  
  
**********  
  
"Simple!" Sting chuckled. "It's in the blood. But anyway, you're new, aren't you?"  
  
Æseri blinked. "How could you tell?"  
  
"You're young, you can't hit a Monol with a spear at eighty yards, and you wear White."  
  
"What do you mean, I wear White?"  
  
"Your medallion is white. It's the lowest in the hierarchy."  
  
"What are the ranks?" Æseri's gut dislike for Sting was wearing off to be replaced by the need to learn more.  
  
"From lowest to highest… White, Yellow, Green, Orange—that's me, Red, Amber, Blue, Lavender, Gray, Black, Silver, Bloodstone, Gold and Black Gold—the highest. It's the one thing we do to show ranks, dude. You didn't just happen to end up with a white one."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"'Oh', he says." Sting laughed. "You're *real* new then, aren't ya?"  
  
Æseri glared at Sting. "I can tell you don't like me, Sting, but I don't care. Dævoro said that in the future I'll be an active member of the Blue Devils."  
  
"We're just 'the gang', kid. If we have to use a name, it's just the Devils." Sting laughed and began to slither away.  
  
Æseri gripped his spear and threw it as hard as he could at Sting's retreating form. It struck him between the shoulder blades.  
  
**********  
  
"So how is he?" Fang glared at the Frozen Gaboo (Gaboo/Tiger).  
  
"That would be, 'How is he, *professor*?' my dear Fang." The Gaboo laughed.  
  
"Don't toy with me, Falon. I've had enough of your arrogance." Fang glared at him through slowly reddening eyes. "I wear Lavender to your Amber. Treat me with a little respect."  
  
"If you're going to be so mean…" Falon's voice became an irritating whine "Then I won't tell you how he's doing."  
  
"Do you know the little secret of these medallions, *Professor* Falon?" Fang smiled.  
  
"What secret?" Falon snapped.  
  
"This." Fang's smile widened as a wave of power shot from his medallion. "The medallions hold power. The higher in rank, the higher in strength. So tell me… how is he doing?"  
  
"Slight wounding to the left lung and damaged muscle tissue in the back and shoulder region, but he'll be fine in a month."  
  
"Only a month?" drawled a voice from the door, "Pity. I was aiming for the heart, you know, but I was off by a couple of inches." Æseri stepped into the room. "That's pretty neat about the medallions, you know. I never would have guessed."  
  
"I'm *so* delighted that I could be of assistance," Fang sneered. "A rookie considers my long-found knowledge *useful*. A rookie who wears *White*."  
  
**********  
  
"I suppose you're wondering why I've called this meeting." Dævoro, a Sapphire (Gali/Tiger, also called Furred Mask), floated down to the center of the stadium. A medallion—Black Gold—hung down from whatever Galis used as necks. His blue cloak swirled around in the wind.  
  
"We aren't wondering, at least not too much, so tell us the story and get off my podium." A Hound Knight (Durahan/Tiger) swung his sword in the air to punctuate.  
  
"Let him sspeak, Ssir Frosstbit," said a sibilant voice. A Blue Terror (Joker/Tiger) floeated down and took his place next to Sir Frostbit. "He iss one of uss now… he wearss the Black Gold with the pride we all do."  
  
"Thank you, master Lucifer. I appreciate your support." Dævoro smiled… as much as any Gali can smile.  
  
"Lucifer iss enough… you equal uss now, Dævoro." Lucifer laughed, and those high-ranking enough to attend the meeting cringed. "You dissapoint me, my friendss… I thought I had trained you better than that…"  
  
"It's about Sting… you all know Sting, right?" Dævoro cut in.  
  
"Of course we all know Sting," Sir Frostbit snapped. "That Amber Striker, right?"  
  
"Precisely. He's been causing trouble, and he got into a fight with a rookie."  
  
"Dævoro, we don't care that Sting got into a fight with a rookie." Sir Frostbit kicked the dirt floor.  
  
"The rookie ran him through with a spear. Lord Fang was informed that he suffered minor injuries, but in reality he could be crippled for life." Dævoro's form flickered slightly, as though he were irritated.  
  
"Which rookie wass thiss, Dævoro?"  
  
"Æseri, master Lucifer. A young Celios."  
  
"I've met Æseri briefly, Dævoro, and he doesn't seem to be the type for runnin' folk through with spears." Sir Frostbit cut a wooden seat in two.  
  
"That's what I thought too. Apparently I was wrong." 


	2. Devil on Four Feet

Falon paced back and forth in his study. (Okay, maybe paced isn't the right word for a Gaboo, but the attitude is right.) Fang glared at him.  
  
"Any news, *Professor Falon*?"  
  
"No."  
  
"That should be, 'No, *Lord Fang*', my dear Falon." He smirked. "I don't believe that you are remembering that."  
  
"VERY FUNNY, FANG." Falon's eyes narrowed to slits. "But I must thank you for the information on the medallions' hidden power. Without your help, I never would have been able to do *this*." Chuckling softly, Falon unleashed a blast of power from his medallion at Fang's stiff left wing.  
  
Fang dropped, unconscious. Falon left the room, muttering happily under his breath.  
  
**********  
  
"I'm afraid you made a mistake, Sir Frostbit." Sting gasped for breath. "I don't wear Amber. Only the Orange." He collapsed back into his bed.  
  
"All right then. I'll make sure the records state that. And I think you should know that you may never be able to use your left arm properly again." Sir Frostbit stood stiffly next to Sting. "So next time, don't underestimate the rookies." He turned on his heel and left.  
  
"Damn," Sting muttered. "What have I gotten into here?"  
  
**********  
  
"So how did it go? And don't attack me like you did Fang, Falon. I don't care that you're a scientist and a physician. I'll kill you if I have to… *unlike* Fang."  
  
"I don't know if I'll be able to fix the wing." Falon shrank back, nervous.  
  
"The more pressing question is…" Jen smiled nastily. "…how will you live your life if you *don't* fix it? I may not like Fang, but I like *you* even less. Fang is valuable. You're expendable." She charged a quick Lightning attack in her hands and blasted Falon. "Don't forget."  
  
"I-I-I won't." Falon shrank even smaller.  
  
"And one more thing…"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"When Fang wakes up, tell him that I don't wear the Black… yet. He seemed to be confused about the subject when we talked yesterday." With another nasty smile, Jen left the room.  
  
**********  
  
Æseri kicked lightly at a clump of grass. He'd been practicing channeling the medallion's power all afternoon and felt that he was getting the hang of it. "Yeh… I like this… YA!!" he jumped into the air like a madman. "I'M… THE DEVIL… ON… FOUR… FEET!!!!"  
  
"Well, I certainly hope you're pleased with yourself, Mr. Devil-on-four- feet, because you're in deep trouble." Jen walked up to him.  
  
"Devils are supposed to make trouble, girlie." Æseri grinned psychotically. "'Specially my kind. Don't go pokin' your nose into matters of power you don't understand."  
  
"Shut up, rookie." Jen walked over to Æseri, picked him up and threw him into a nearby tree. "You can mouth off to me when you outrank me, but not till then… in other words, you'll do as I say for as long as you're capable of walking like the rest of us."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Æseri snapped. "I don't get it!"  
  
"You're in the ranks of White, rookie. I'm in the ranks of Gray… soon to be Black. You'll have to ascend eight levels just to get to the Gray… and by that time I'll be at least as Silver or Bloodstone." She grinned at him. "So you clean my *boots*, rookie. At least you would, so be grateful I don't wear boots." She spat in the dirt in front of him.  
  
"Okay, okay… sheesh. Don't get all riled up on me, girlie." Æseri tried to grin.  
  
"And don't call me 'girlie'."  
  
"Who are you to give me orders, girlie?"  
  
"Jen." Jen charged up all of the lightning energy she could, backed it with the strength of her Gray medallion and blasted it all at Æseri. He crumpled, unconscious before he even hit the ground.  
  
**********  
  
"Jen, I am dissapointed to ssay that you are caussing trouble again. What iss the problem here?"  
  
"Master Lucifer, kindly don't ask. I don't know. But why is it you dealing with this instead of Dævoro or Mister High And Mighty?" Jen smiled inwardly. Lucifer was the only member of the Ruling Triat she didn't mind dealing with. Actually, she liked Lucifer a lot… he wasn't overly formal like Dævoro or arrogant like Sir Frostbit.  
  
"Misster High And Mighty?" *And* he had a bit of a sense of humor.  
  
"Sir Frostbit. He acts like he owns the world, Lucifer." Jen shrugged. "Most of us don't like him."  
  
"That does not strike me ass odd, Jen." Lucifer smiled, an odd act for a Joker. "I'm not quite sso evil ass other Jokerss. Not that it matterss. I am not fond of Ssir Frosstbit in the leasst."  
  
"Really? That's a bit of a shock." Jen grinned.  
  
"Ssir Frosstbit doess not make any effort to make himsself likeable, Jen." He paused a moment, thinking. "But that doess not take away from the fact that if thiss continues at the rate it iss going, the rookie will be dead before the year iss out."  
  
"Hopefully he'd have wised up by then."  
  
"Æsseri hass much potential, Jen. You would do well to remember that. You are dissmissed."  
  
Jen left the room. She had expected to be reprimanded at the least… most of the Devils who irritated Lucifer found themselves in the infirmary for several weeks.  
  
"And here I am… whatever."  
  
**********  
  
"I don't suggest you try to move, Mr. Devil-on-four-feet," said a cool voice from… somewhere.  
  
"Where am I?" Æseri tried to ask, but he couldn't move his mouth. "What happened?"  
  
"Jen happened. Don't bother her, kid. You'll just get hurt even more." Fang laughed. "You've got to be Æseri, right?"  
  
"Uh, yeah. Who are you?"  
  
"Fang. I've felt Jen's wrath before, too, kid. We're in this together."  
  
"*You* haven't had to take a fully charged Lightning attack backed by all of Jen's Gray strength, Fang. That's what put me here."  
  
"And you've survived to tell the tale. You must be one of those 'Never say die' types, kid. We like those here." Fang grinned, his wolf like head turning to face Æseri. "You'll be a good member to the Devils, I can see that. Them humans are getting uppity and Jen's been killing too many."  
  
"That's not good."  
  
"Damn straight it's not!" Fang shouted. "Humans are valuable. We can ransom 'em off to human traders for quite a sum. Jen's killed at least a dozen in the past couple of months. Usually we lose maybe three a year."  
  
"Ouch." Æseri tried to sit. "We can't let that keep going on."  
  
"You're one to talk, kid. You nearly killed old Sting."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Oh, hell yeah. You really are a devil. By the time you make it to the ranks of Green or Orange you'll really be one of us."  
  
"Thanks, Fang."  
  
"Any time, kid."  
  
**********  
  
"Rex! Come here!" Rex sighed and walked into the house. "Rex! We don't have all day! Hurry up!"  
  
"I'm coming, I'm coming," he muttered. "Don't get all psycho on me, dood."  
  
"Rex, my brother's here and I want him impressed with the service!"  
  
"Which brother?" Rex asked as he dashed into the room.  
  
"Ahriman. You remember him?"  
  
Rex paled, remembering the last time he and the Jaggernaut (Beaclon/Joker) had met. "All too well, mister Dhakkan."  
  
"Call me 'boss', Rex."  
  
"Dhakkan, isn't this a little overboard for just one guy?"  
  
"Stupid human… how could you understand? He's a Jaggernaut." The Sloth Beetle (Beaclon/Tiger) shook his head sadly. "Jaggernauts have a long memory for slights."  
  
"So, basically, you don't want him here but you don't dare not invite him?"  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"I'm not that stupid, boss. Humans aren't any smarter or stupider than monsters."  
  
"You're a third-generation Kulian, Rex. By then we've managed to breed out intelligence."  
  
"So this island is called Kul?"  
  
"Of course. What did you expect?"  
  
"Nobody ever told me where I live, boss. I'd know this island was Kul if somebody'd told me. But nobody did." He sighed. "It's got to be the Blue Devils. They're destroying the humans here."  
  
"The Devils know what they're doing, Rex. I'm one of them." Dhakkan indicated the Red medallion around his neck. "I've got influence to keep you safe, but I don't want to get hurt if you start speaking against them."  
  
"I'll lay low, boss."  
  
"Good." 


	3. A complete and utter... IDIOT.

The Blue Devils: A Complete and Utter… IDIOT.  
  
  
  
"And furthermore…" the speaker was some sort of… whatever it was. A Hound Saurian (Zuum/Tiger) or some irritating monster like that. Jen let her head drop. A few minutes of sleep wouldn't make a difference… right?  
  
Wrong.  
  
"Jen, could you give uss an opinion on the current ssituation?" Lucifer gave her a cool smile from his seat. "I believe that ssince you wear the Gray, you sshould contribute to thesse meetss. What can you tell uss?"  
  
"Nothing," Jen muttered. "I have no active opinion on the matter at this moment." She sat, sweat pouring down her forehead and stinging her eyes.  
  
"Nice ssave," Lucifer whispered in her ear. "What do you think the outcome will be of appealss from non-Devilss?"  
  
"How did you get over here so fast?" Jen asked him, deliberately avoiding the question.  
  
"I'll explain later. But now, my dear Jen… pay attention to the speakerss and bore yoursself sstiff. Ssuch iss life."  
  
"I don't want to admit that, you know." Jen smiled coolly.  
  
"Of coursse you don't… you like to believe in being in control, my dear Jen." He smiled at her and dissappeared.  
  
Jen rolled her eyes. "Men," she muttered under her breath.  
  
"I heard that, you know," Lucifer's voice whispered in her head. "I'm not one to agree, necesssarily. Esspecially since you yoursself are not one to be sso agreeable."  
  
"I still stand by my opinion," Jen snapped.  
  
"That'ss why we like you." Lucifer's smile appeared in Jen's head as he made himself semi-comfortable in his seat.  
  
Jen sighed. "I suppose I have to take the bad with the good," she muttered. "Over all he's a good guy… I even like him a little. I suppose even I'm going all soft." She shuddered. "I sure as hell hope not. I hate softness."  
  
"Don't be afraid of being ssoft," Lucifer told her. "Ssoftnesss can help uss all at ssome point in each of our misserable livess… heh heh… you will undersstand ssoner or later."  
  
"Oh, shut up," Jen grumbled. "You make too damned much sense."  
  
**********  
  
"REX! HURRY UP WITH THE SANDWICHES!!" Ahriman shouted. "Dhakkan, I must say, I expected better of you… you haven't trained your Rex very well." He smiled with the air of someone with too much self-granted superiority.  
  
"Rex doesn't respond very well to being trained, I'm afraid," Dhakkan said with what he hoped was a sad smile. "Don't think I haven't tried. He's very troublesome." He smiled inwardly. Rex was his *friend*, not a servant.  
  
"You're too soft!" Ahriman spat. "That's your problem. You have to teach these humans who's boss around here. I've been quite successful back home, even though it's human territory. Or should I say, *was* human territory." He laughed unpleasantly. "It's *mine* now… hee hee… all mine…" he grinned unpleasantly. "Mineminemine… hee hee…"  
  
"You're acting stupid," Dhakkan pointed out. "You look and sound like the local fool, Ahriman. Get a bit of a grip on yourself." He sighed. This was the most insanity he'd endured since the last time Ahriman had visited him.  
  
"Of course. I understand." Ahriman straightened up. "But the land is mine, you know. You should come and see me some time." He grinned.  
  
"Great," Dhakkan muttered. "That sounds just great. I'd move in with ya, but it's too long a trip for these old bones."  
  
"What old bones? You're only six years older'n me!" Ahriman's horrible grin widened. "Does it really make that much of a difference?"  
  
"Absolutely. It makes all the difference in the world, little bro. And it ain't just funny that everyone thinks you're older?"  
  
"Nah, that's just dumb logic. I'm more impressive than you… in just about every way. I don't blame 'em really."  
  
"Shut up, Ahriman."  
  
"No, *you* shut up, Dhakkan." Ahriman stood up. "Thanks for the meal. I think I'll be leaving now." He fluttered out the door.  
  
A minute later Rex was back with the sandwiches. "Am I late again?"  
  
Dhakkan grinned. "I don't believe so. My dear brother has decided to vacate the premises."  
  
"Cool!" Rex smiled. "Since he's gone, can I have a sandwich?" without waiting for Dhakkan's reply, he tore into the plate he'd been carrying. Dhakkan just smiled sadly.  
  
**********  
  
"So tell me Fang, how do you deal with Jen?" neither Æseri nor Fang were out of the infirmary. "I don't want to get thrown into any more trees. Not that she'd do that to you, but…"  
  
Fang shrugged. "She did once."  
  
"You're kidding!"  
  
"Why would I?" Fang shrugged again. "She pulled a muscle in her shoulder when she did it, but she was younger and not quite so tough back then."  
  
"Compared to what?" Æseri laughed. "She scares me. To think that throwing a dragon into a tree can be done when you're 'not so tough'!"  
  
"Æseri, all you have to do is be a little polite. Then you'll go through your life with less pain. She only attacks people she doesn't like or when she's on business. She only dislikes people who are arrogant, rude or stupid. Though knowing you, you've probably struck her as all three."  
  
"Hey!" Æseri glared. "I'm not stupid!"  
  
"You sure act stupid, kid, and that's all she cares about." Fang grinned. "Get over it, okay?"  
  
"I guess I don't really have a choice, do I?"  
  
"That's the spirit!" Fang laughed. "You've got to be resigned to your fate if you want to last long. You'll be fine, kid. I believe in you."  
  
"Thanks, Fang."  
  
"Being bitter doesn't hurt either."  
  
"That doesn't help me much."  
  
"I think you're adjusting already. What you *really* want to do is get Lucifer to like you, that way you'll be able to get away with anything… that's why Jen can beat up on the boyos."  
  
"Lucifer likes her?"  
  
"Better than sliced bread, Æseri. I'd say he likes her plenty."  
  
"What does that have to do with sliced bread?"  
  
"It's a stupid twist on a stupid saying."  
  
"Oh. I see." Æseri lay back down. "I figure I'll just sleep the whole thing off."  
  
"Don't be so sure about living it down though…" Fang sighed. "Jen has a lot of things going for her… one of them being a *very* good memory."  
  
"I'll remember," Æseri told him sleepily. "Thanks Fang… you've been a lot of help…" his head hit the pillow and he was asleep in a minute.  
  
"Such a foolish boy…" Fang smiled sadly. "He doesn't stand a chance. I almost wish I could help him."  
  
**********  
  
"So let me get this straight… you want to get Ahriman out of the way for good? Not possible." Dhakkan glared at Rex. "If you want him dead you can kill him yourself. I'm not going to soil my hands with my brother's blood."  
  
"Or, more to the point, you're afraid to try?" Rex snapped. "You're afraid of Ahriman and you hate him as much as I do. I can help you get rid of him. You trust me, right?"  
  
"Rex, trusting you isn't going to improve our situation. I'm not going to ask anyone for help."  
  
"Dhakkan, the Devils are here to wipe out people like Ahriman. He makes the human race look superior. I may be human, but from what I *have* seen of humans they aren't as great as they'd like to think.  
  
"No, don't tell me that it's not going to work. I hate Ahriman with a regular passion, and if you won't let me kill him for you I'll do it for me." Rex opened his eyes, as they'd been closed the whole time, and looked at Dhakkan.  
  
He was a wreck. Sweat poured down his face, drenching it as though somebody had just dumped a bucket of water over his head. "We can't," he said harshly. "We can't do it."  
  
"Why not?" Rex hissed. "I'm starting to lose my temper, Dhakkan, what's standing in the way? Spit it out!"  
  
"I can't say," Dhakkan growled. "I can't tell anyone, least of all a human. You wouldn't get it."  
  
"You'd be surprised at how much I *do* get. May I be dismissed now?"  
  
"Yes. Go away."  
  
Rex left, and returned to the room.  
  
"Go AWAY, Rex."  
  
"All right, all right… I'm going."  
  
"Now!"  
  
Rex scurried out of the room with no more dignity than a cockroach who had just wandered into a very well-lit room.  
  
Dhakkan poured himself a tall glass of brandy and chugged it down. When the glass was empty, he poured another. And another one after that…  
  
He couldn't tell Rex anything… he couldn't… 


	4. Hercules has NOTHING on Jen.

Author's Note: For those of you who were wondering about Æseri's name, the Æ character can be typed with the keyboard command Alt + 0198. It also sounds like the word "I".  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"I wanna get out of here!" Æseri whined. "I'm bored! I want to get something done!" he climbed out of his bed and paced up and down between the beds.  
  
"And the *rest* of us want to get a little peace and quiet!" Fang snapped. "Keep it down!"  
  
"Why?" Æseri grumbled. "You're trying to squelch my ambition, aren't you?"  
  
"No," Fang growled, "I want a little peace and quiet! Some of us are trying to rest here, Æseri." He glared. "Now shut up before I go over there and actually show you what a dragon—even an injured one—can do when irked!" He snorted, and steam rose from his face. "Got it?"  
  
"Whatever." Æseri rolled his eyes. "I'll figure out how to get around you one of these days." He walked over to his bed and climbed back in. "Think I'll ever outrank you? Or Jen?"  
  
Fang sighed. "I sincerely doubt it, my feisty little friend. I doubt it very, very much."  
  
"I'm sure you do." Æseri told him. "So I'll just have to work that much harder to prove you wrong. Whatcha say? Think I'm up for it?"  
  
"Just shut up and you'll have my support." Fang sighed again. "I really just want to get some rest. You're a rookie, so they'll be lenient with you, but they want me back at work in four days. I want to heal up as much as possible between now and then."  
  
"All right. I'll do my best." Æseri lay down on his bed and did his best not to stir up a commotion.  
  
**********  
  
"I have to run the reserve defensive troops for HOW long?" Jen spluttered. "I'm not set up for that kind of stuff! Why?" she gave Sir Frostbit a glare that could freeze a person's blood in his veins.  
  
Sir Frostbit was glad he didn't have any blood for Jen to freeze, but somehow he managed to smirk. "Fang's estimated recovery time is four more days. Right now we need regulation for the troops more than we need regulation for the Special Service. And from now on, if you put Fang out of business, you'll be filling in for him, unless we need your job done more than we need his."  
  
"Four days…" Jen muttered under her breath. "I thought you were a good administrator, Sir Frostbit. Guess I was wrong…"  
  
Sir Frostbit blinked. "Why do you say that?"  
  
"After four days, I'll have done more harm than good for those troops."  
  
"Well, the real reason we're putting *you* on the job instead of someone else is that some of the troops have been complaining about Fang's roughness with them. They say that he's 'savage' and 'unnecessarily rough' with them." Sir Frostbit smiled. "We—meaning the central triangle—would like them to know just how lucky they are."  
  
"What's *that* supposed to mean?" Jen's icy stare grew stronger.  
  
"You're not exactly known for your compassion."  
  
"That's an understatement."  
  
"Of course. But that's why we chose you, instead of some useless, softbellied twerp like Falon."  
  
"He's not *that* bad." Jen shrugged. "But as long as I manage okay, I'll sleep easy?"  
  
"As easy as anyone who runs the defensive troops through their exercises can sleep."  
  
"For the next four days."  
  
"Right."  
  
"I suppose I'll live." Jen sighed. "When do I start?"  
  
"Tomorrow."  
  
"See ya later then, Sir Frostbit." Jen gave him a mocking smile and flew off.  
  
Sir Frostbit sighed. "That woman will be the death of me if I'm not careful… even if I am." He shrugged. "Oh well. I could do worse."  
  
**********  
  
"Get out! OUT!" Falon zipped into the infirmary and began trying to swat Æseri out of the room. "You're more than healthy enough! You're causing a disturbance! Get out of here!"  
  
"Sure *you* aren't causing them to lose more sleep than I was, *Professor Falon*?" Æseri sneered. "I haven't been *that* bad lately."  
  
"Get OUT, damn you!" Falon shouted. "We don't have all day, and the sooner Fang gets out of here the better!"  
  
"Why do you say that?" Fang asked mildly. "I've been a good boy while I've been in here. Why do you want me out so badly?"  
  
"Because until you get out, Jen's drilling the reserve defensive troops. I wouldn't wish *her* on my worst enemy, let alone the softies in reserve." Falon sighed. "I was a defense troop once, you know. Jen's going to kill half of them and incarcerate the other half for stupidity."  
  
"Naw, she'll more likely kill 'em." Æseri pulled himself up.  
  
"What would *you* know about Jen's temper?" Falon snapped.  
  
Æseri shrugged. "Not much, but she *is* the one who put me here."  
  
"Tree?" Falon let himself smile a little.  
  
"Yeah… that *and* a Gray-boosted Lightning attack."  
  
"Oh, get out!" Falon chuckled slightly. "You're going to want to get some training in. maybe you'll be an active part of the gang by next year. I'd say yes if you survived *that*."  
  
"You think it'll take that long?" Æseri looked hurt. "Don't you have *any* faith in me?"  
  
"I only think it'll take that long because you have potential," Falon said gravely. "It took me two and a half years to get in, and then another two to get into the medical service where I wanted to be. I only run the department now by default because I was the highest ranking medical worker when the old boss was murdered."  
  
"Ouch."  
  
"Well, killed in a raid if you want to be exact. It's tough going, kid. Good luck."  
  
"Thanks, Falon." Æseri grinned. "I'm going to need it."  
  
"Don't get too cocky," Fang called. "If you do, I'll plant a tree for you!"  
  
"I thought you were my friend, Fang!"  
  
"I said nothing of the sort!" Fang smirked at him. "I think you have a chance, kid. And I think that maybe, if you do well, we can be friends. But not yet. Give it time."  
  
"All right, all right." Æseri rolled his eyes. "Adults… I thought I'd get away from them sooner or later."  
  
"You'll never escape the likes of us," Fang called after him, as if reading his thoughts. "We'll always be here, and by the time we aren't, you'll be one of us."  
  
"That's an unsettling thought," Æseri muttered. "What *really* scares me is that it doesn't sound so bad anymore." he shrugged. "Oh well. Not a problem. I'll get over it sooner or later."  
  
**********  
  
Jen glided down over the gorge that the reserve defensive troops used for training. It didn't look too formidable to her. "It's not that bad." She laughed. "At least, it doesn't look half as bad as it did when I started here… but I suppose it'll do. How can I put it to use to actually *help* those misfits?"  
  
"Well, you could get the drills from Lord Fang," said a voice from behind her. "And if you want to, make them more difficult." A Hound Knight stepped from the shadows. His Amber medallion glittered in the light.  
  
"Who are you?" Jen sneered. "Sir Frostbit's baby brother? I haven't seen you around here before." She shielded herself with her Gray strength. "What's your name?"  
  
"Varon," came the reply. "Actually, I'm older than Sir Frostbit and we aren't related at all. I'm an immigrant from the outside world. So's my brother, Fenrik."  
  
"Right, right." Another Hound Knight (also wearing Amber) walked up to them. "How goes your suck-up routine, big brother?" he grinned at Jen. "He's always like this with new instructors."  
  
Jen arched an eyebrow. "Really?"  
  
"Yup." Fenrik grinned.  
  
"Shut up, Fenrik," Varon growled.  
  
"No, you shut up, Varon. I know you're still jealous that I got promoted after the raid and you didn't, since that's the reason we're the same rank now DESPITE the fact that it was several years ago, but don't let that cloud what little judgment you have."  
  
"It was twenty years," Varon snapped. "Twenty years and I still won't forgive you."  
  
"Both of you shut up," Jen said coldly. "Varon, I'll consider your idea, and Fenrik, stop teasing your brother. But that goes for you too, Varon. I don't want you picking on him just because you're older. Personally, I think you're both acting like children, fighting over something that happened twenty years ago."  
  
"It was actually thirty years," Fenrik told him. "And she's right, we are being stupid. That's probably the reason that we're still at Amber after all of these years."  
  
"Probably," Jen agreed. "I think that you should learn to trust in your superiors if you want things in your little world to go right. You're grown men, start acting like it."  
  
"*I* trust 'em." Fenrik grinned again. "Wonderful meeting you Miss… what did you say your name was?"  
  
"I didn't," Jen snapped. "It's Jen."  
  
"Well, it was wonderful meeting you, Miss Jen."  
  
"And you accuse *me* of being a suck up?" Varon snarled, whirling on Fenrik. "You're accusing ME?"  
  
Jen flew off. The brothers' conversation faded from her mind and she rolled her eyes. She'd show them all just what they were up against. She was Jen… the invincible warrior who'd been given a really stupid job and was very, VERY bad-tempered. Hercules had nothing on her. 


	5. So what if I'm an idiot?

"I'll tell you guys straight out, you can have the afternoon off," Fang shoutedover the heads of hos tired-looking troops. "I know you've been working hard lately and I think you all deserve a bit of a break."  
  
"We can't take time off," one of the soldiers called. "Jen'll get mad at us and give us extra work or throw us into more trees. I don't want that."  
  
"I'm *not* Jen, I'm Fang, and Jen no longer has the authority to regulate your off-hours unless I desegate that purpose to her." Fang glared down at the soldier. "D'ya get that?"  
  
"Yessir." The soldier closed his eyes for a moment. "But can you give us the morning instead so we can recharge?" Fang looked at the soldier's Orange medallion. It was totally devoid of energy.  
  
"You been using it to keep yourself awake all this time?" Fang asked, a touch of concern creeping into his voice.  
  
"Yessir." The soldier's eyes sparkled with something Fang knew he'd seen before. Fang looked closer at the soldier and any concern he'd felt vanished. It was Sting.  
  
"Right," he said shortly, addressing the soldiers assembled before him. "I've changed my mind. All working troops—well, all of you—are relieved from duty for today. Toon and platoon leaders report here at 1900 hours or seven in the evening for you dummies. Dismissed!" he stalked away, muttering.  
  
Fang stopped muttering and cursed loudly when a throwing knife lodged itself in his left shoulder. "Who's there?" he snarled, whirling around.  
  
"Only me." It was Falon.  
  
"Falon! What in the name of Hell are you doing here? And what was that knife for? It hit my bad shoulder!"  
  
"I wasn't *planning* on hitting you with a throwing knife when I came after you," Falon snapped. "But you didn't answer when I called your name… *five times*… and you didn't seem to notice the rocks I threw at you, so I was kind of out of ideas." He shrugged. "I *am* sorry about the shoulder, though. I was aiming for your arm."  
  
"That really helps me," Fang growled. "With my luck they'll put Jen in charge of my troops again. She half killed 'em before, who knows what she'll do this time?"  
  
"Don't worry about it." Falon's medallion glowed briefly and the energy seeped into Fang's arm. "Give it some of your Lavender energy to boost that and you'll be fine by this evening."  
  
"I suppose I should thank you." Fang glared at Falon.  
  
"Not really." Falon shrugged again. "The knife was my fault really so it's only right that I patch you up. Besides, you hate me anyway, so what's the point?"  
  
Fang smiled grimly. "I'm so glad you understand."  
  
"Every now and then I do get something right."  
  
"Why are you here, Falon?"  
  
"Why are you so pissed at Sting?"  
  
"I don't know, Falon…" Fang sighed. "I don't get it. He doesn't even deserve to exist. He's an irresponsible, unintelligent slacker. He's got no ambition. The only thing he sports is a horribly irritating personality. I just… I don't know."  
  
"I can sort of understand that. You've got to give him a chance. Æseri's a brat, but he's got potential. You need to try to see Sting in that same kind of light. Okay?"  
  
"Sting has no potential or ambition. Æseri's a brat, all right, but he'll have a chance at being likeable if he stops acting so stupid. Sting has no chance." Fang sighed. "I can make up all of these excuses, but I don't know why. I don't know at all."  
  
"Give it some thought, Fang."  
  
"No."  
  
**********  
  
Æseri stopped, gasping with a futile attempt to catch his breath. "Keep going," he rasped, trying to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. "Gotta… huh… keep… going… heh…"  
  
"DON'T SLACK!" Jen's voice bellowed in his ear. "You're training for the Special Service you work under me! Get back to running!"  
  
"Can't move…" Æseri wheezed.  
  
"What did I tell you?" Jen smirked. "You aren't ready to be a specialized fighter.  
  
"You're too ambitious for your own good and too arrogant for the good of the Devils! Now get out of here, and don't come back until you're ready to act like the man you're pretending to be!" Jen punched Æseri in the jaw and walked away.  
  
Æseri's head lolled to one side as if it were attached to a broken neck. "I must be going insane…" he muttered. "I suppose it's back to the infirmary for little ol' me…" he pulled himself up and began to walk slowly away from the training area.  
  
"Hurry up!" Jen shouted after him as a Big Blue (running very fast) nearly missed trampling him into the ground. "I'll tell you once, I'll tell you a hundred times. Get your act together or get out of here. And do it fast!"  
  
Æseri ran.  
  
As a matter of fact, he ran into a Zilla.  
  
"D… WHA?!" Æseri spluttered. "Who are you?"  
  
"Staunt."  
  
"What do you want and why are you here?"  
  
"I want to join the Blue Devils."  
  
"But I thought it was only for people with Tiger blood!"  
  
Staunt glared at Æseri. "I'm blue, aren't I? And who are you, boy?"  
  
"Æseri."  
  
"Very well then, Æseri, I hate to admit it, but I'm going to ask you to help me. Can you do that?" Staunt glared at him in a baleful way.  
  
"I don't believe this was in the job description of a Blue Devil."  
  
"I'm asking you to help me, Æseri. Is that so difficult, or are you just hopelessly incompetent? Seriously, though. You shouldn't be ashamed to admit that you're an idiot, really." Staunt smiled, knowing that he'd hit Æseri's weak spot.  
  
"All right, all right, I'll help you. But it'll be a long, rocky road, and I don't think the others'll accept you quickly."  
  
"I'm not asking to be accepted. I'm asking to join." Staunt glared. "I've been alone all my life, I don't need to stop now." His eyes softened for a moment. "Nobody's ever liked me, and I'm not asking anyone to like me… that includes you, Æseri."  
  
"Why doesn't anybody like you? Besides the obvious, that is," Æseri smirked.  
  
Staunt grabbed Æseri by the throat and lifted him up to eye level. "You aren't as clever as you think you are, Æseri. Don't push your luck."  
  
"Having a pleasant conversation, Æseri?" Jen strolled over. She turned to Staunt. "And what can I do for you? Oh, and do be a dear and put Æseri down. He's no use to any of us dead."  
  
"I want to join the Blue Devils."  
  
"Name?"  
  
"Staunt."  
  
"Why do you want to join the Devils?"  
  
"I'm a killing machine. I've killed eighteen humans, and none of them deserved it. I figured that here I'd be able to harness my energy and put it to good use."  
  
"Hmm… well Staunt, I like your resumé, but you don't have any Tiger blood in you."  
  
"I'm blue, aren't I?"  
  
"Okay, you're in. Here." Jen handed Staunt a White medallion. "Welcome to the Blue Devils. There's energy stored in those pendants, if you can figure it out then you deserve to use it. Now I'll get back to training, but I like the look of you, Staunt."  
  
"Thanks. And who are you?"  
  
"Jen."  
  
"Maybe I'll end up in your troops, Jen."  
  
"Maybe." Staunt grinned and jogged off.  
  
**********  
  
Æseri kicked his spear target. "So *what* if Jen's taken a liking to Staunt? So *what* if Staunt's nicer, funnier and more polite than me? I don't care that Jen likes Staunt better than me, because I am *not* jealous.  
  
"Damn."  
  
"Jealous, old son?" Fang walked up to him.  
  
"NO!"  
  
"The old man begs to differ." Fang laughed. "You're as jealous as I was at your age, old son."  
  
"What's with the 'old son' all of a sudden?"  
  
"I dunno. It just suits you." Fang shrugged. "Try to put up with Staunt, Æseri. He's a good man, and he could be a valuable ally in the future. I won't always be so sweet and understanding with you."  
  
"When will you stop?"  
  
"Right about the time you learn to take care of youself."  
  
"In other words, just about never."  
  
"I'm not so sure of that anymore."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"You're getting used to being a Devil. Getting better, learning the ropes… you can go the distance if anyone can."  
  
"Even moreso than Staunt?"  
  
"Staunt's likely to peak in five years and retire form the Devils before he reaches Gray."  
  
"You think so?"  
  
"I've seen a great many youngsters who seem great taper off into nothingness. On the other hand, I also Magnate Oliver through his training to become ruler of the entire Bloodrain Territory."  
  
"Oliver?"  
  
"A Blue Kato. Wears Gold now, if my memory serves me correctly."  
  
"Wow…"  
  
"And at the beginning he was as much of a failure and a pain in the ass as you."  
  
"Really?" Æseri started to grin.  
  
"No kidding. So who knows where you might end up?" Fang laughed quietly. "But get out of here, boy. I don't want to end up fond of you when you're dead."  
  
"I'm not going to die." Æseri straightened.  
  
"Don't count on it," Fang replied with every bit of coolness he could muster. "Death may be the exception, but nonetheless…"  
  
Æseri shrugged and jogged off. 


	6. What Fools we are.......

"Æseri! Can't you at least *try* to get used to the idea? You *aren't* that great, you know!" Staunt ran after Æseri, Yellow pendant bouncing off his chest and flying back and forth. "I'm not that great either!"  
  
"I noticed!" Æseri snapped. "And I'm so glad *you* did as well! Why are you such an ass?"  
  
"I'm not an ass!" Staunt snarled. "Would you at least give me a chance? You said you'd help me!"  
  
"Well, mister I-think-I'll-just-suck-up-and-make-Jen-think-I'm-the- greatest, I don't think you need any more help! You're just fine on your own!" Æseri snaled back at Staunt, firing an Energy Shots attack at him.  
  
Staunt dodged the Energy Shots easily and countered with a Fist Missile, knocking Æseri down and breaking his left foreleg and right arm. "It won't do you well to fight with me, Æseri," he said coolly. "Before I joined the Devils I was a Rank-S tournament fighter. You have nothing on me."  
  
Æseri just stared at him. "A Rank-S tournament fighter? Why did you leave the biz? You were probably famous!"  
  
"I was famous. It went to my head and in all honesty I ended up depressed. I just couldn't take any of it anymore. But you don't really get it, do you?"  
  
"No. I don't."  
  
"Maybe some day you'll get it through your thick head that being famous isn't about fun and games."  
  
"I sincerely doubt that will ever happen." Æseri grinned slightly. "But if you're a Rank-S tournament fighter, then what does that leave for Jen and Fang and Oliver and the Triat?"  
  
"Major 4…" Staunt shrugged. "Knowing Lucifer, probably the Legend Cup as well. He's one tough old man."  
  
"I'll say…" Æseri tried to sit up but collapsed as pain shot through his whole body. "D'ya think we could go to the infirmary on the way to the mess hall? I'm in a tiny, tiny bit of intense extreme agony…"  
  
Staunt grinned and lifted Æseri gently from the ground. "I guess this means we're not biting each other any more?"  
  
"What do ya mean by that?"  
  
"Well, I think calling us friends would be a bit over the top. Knowing you." Staunt shrugged. "I can't really consider you to be a friend if you think I'm an ass."  
  
"Okay. Works for me. You're probably right anyway." Æseri sighed. "Let's go, okay?"  
  
"Let's." Staunt jogged off to the infirmary, carrying Æseri in one of his oversized hands. "Don't fall apart before we get there."  
  
"Mmmf," Æseri mumbled. "Just go."  
  
**********  
  
"Why is he here again?" Falon asked Staunt coldly. "He's already been here this week. Come back on Monday if you have to have him here."  
  
"It's my fault," Staunt said miserably. "I lost my temper and attacked him. I must really be cracking up, I'm looking to you for sympathy. Oh well. Lord Falon, I'm afraid that if you don't admit Æseri to the infirmary, I'll lose my temper and attack you the way I did him."  
  
"I'm not afraid of your empty threats, boy," Falon snapped.  
  
"He's got a broken leg, a nearly shattered arm and who knows how many other injuries. I was a Rank-S tournament fighter before I joined the Devils, Lord Falon. Do you really want me as an enemy? I don't think that wearing the Amber will protect you for long." Staunt grinned. "What do you think, Lord Falon? Will you patch up good old Æseri for us?" he laughed and put Æseri down on the nearest bed. "You'd better."  
  
"Fine, fine," Falon muttered. "I suppose I'd better fix him up anyway."  
  
"Oh, and by the way," Staunt called from the next room, "If Jen tries to bribe you into killing him, tell her to talk to me. She isn't too fond of our centaurian friend, I dare say." Then there was nothing. He was gone.  
  
"I guess we'd best patch you up," Falon grumbled. "I hate this job, you know."  
  
Æseri sighed softly. "I would too. Is it really as thankless a task as I think?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"It's even worse."  
  
"Oh. I'm sorry."  
  
It was Falon's turn to sigh. "Don't be sorry. I asked for the job and I got it. Besides, I do it better than anyone else."  
  
"I'm so sure of that." Æseri laughed. "You aren't too bad, but with the training, my little brother could do a better job than you. At least, it seems like that sometimes. No offense, of course. It's just that he's used to thankless tasks."  
  
"So am I…" Falon sighed again.  
  
"You're sighing too much," Æseri said sharply. "It can't be good for you."  
  
"Oh, shut up!" Falon snapped. He splashed a couple of drops of chloroform on a handkerchief and dropped in on Æseri's face.  
  
**********  
  
Æseri's vision swam around him. Colors ran into each other, bleeding like colors in newly dyed cloth. Shapes bled in and out of focus. Inanimate objects moved about. Rocks danced and Æseri's spear writhed like a snake as he tried desparately to get some help from the others… but they couldn't understand what he was telling them.  
  
Æseri shook his head, trying to figure out just what was happening and to try to clear his head a little. It felt totally stuffed up, like it was going to burst or something. Æseri felt confused—he didn't recall getting stoned on hallucinogens any time recently. But here he was, in the middle of a horrible fantasy world.  
  
Something was walking toward him. Something tall and thin and almost humanoid-ish. He looked closer. It was a tall, spindly thing, about eight feet in height, with long curved talons growing from its wrists instead of hands. It seemed poised almost precariously on its two legs, which were overly thin like the rest of it. Its feet were like three-pronged forks and left no prints in the moist earth.  
  
Everyone around them had disappeared from the area. It was just Æseri and the… demon. If that was indeed what the thing was. It walked toward Æseri, its arms outstretched, long curved talons extending, its flat face with its triangular ears, slit mouth and empty gold eyes expressionless. The gray skin seemed to resonate with some sort of sound just beyond Æseri's spectrum of hearing.  
  
And Æseri looked into the blank eyes. For a second he saw nothing, then in the back of his mind he saw a single, huge eye. Almost not there, but painfully obvious and clear, like something sick, twisted and totally unshakable… like the end of the world or something. The eye glowed a baleleful red, pulsating sickly as though to pop right out of its socket. The center was an even sicker and brighter red than the rest of the eye, spinning into its own oblivion…  
  
His head pounded. His vision swam even more than it had been before, then became painfully clear. The red eye burned itself into his mind, forcing through the gaps in his mental barriers. He couldn't see anything but it… couldn't run… couldn't hide…  
  
**********  
  
Then he was sitting on the grass eating lunch. He wasn't even sure what he was eating, but whatever it was, it was delicious. The sun cast warm rays of light over Æseri and his company—he was sitting with Staunt, Fang, Jen and Falon. Jen wasn't throwing anyone around, and that in itself made the whole scene seem quiet.  
  
A bird flew into Æseri's face, fell and hit the ground. Æseri picked it up and set it on his shoulder. The bird chriped happily and grabbed a bite of his sandwich. Æseri grinned and patted the bird on the head.  
  
Jen arched an eyebrow. "Pet bird? I never saw you as a bird person, Æseri."  
  
Æseri shrugged. "I don't care. He's kind of cute, you know. Who brought the food? It's great." He grinned and stuffed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth.  
  
Fang rolled his eyes. "You did. Did you forget already?"  
  
Æseri felt his face heat up. "Uh, I guess. I'm glad I can't blush. Don't hold this against me, okay?"  
  
"Fine, fine." Jen turned back to her sandwich. "I have to admit, this is good. What did you use?"  
  
Æseri rolled his eyes. "Worm liver."  
  
Jen laughed. "Seriously, though."  
  
"Just a little of everything I could find. Well, everything worth eating, that is." He grinned. "I don't know if this was a lucky fluke, or if I have a talent for the culinary. But pray for the latter, maybe I'll be your chef."  
  
"I'll think about it." Jen scratched Æseri's pet bird's head. "What are you going to name your bird?"  
  
"Raul." Æseri never found out what Jen thought of the name, because at that moment a girl came charging down the hillside. She was about average height and of lean build, with brown hair tied behind her head and glasses nearly falling off her face as she ran. "KIIIIIIILIIIIIIIIIIIIIMAAAAAAAAANJAAAAAAAAAAAAROOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"  
  
**********  
  
Æseri walked through a fake wall and into his old bedroom at home. Everything was exactly as it was when he'd left so long ago. He looked through everything he owned… the old books, the toys he'd played with as a baby and never gotten rid of, the huge masses of training equipment that never worked… he felt a nostalgic smile creep across his face.  
  
"I can't believe I'm back home already," he whispered. "I never thought I'd see this place again. Well, not alive anyway."  
  
"And you never will again," said a cold voice from behind him. "You left us, Æseri. Abandoned all of us when you knew that your paycheck was the only way we could eat properly, with Mom sick and Dad unemployed. I had to take your job… and couldn't do it. I got fired yesterday, Æseri. And now we have no livelihood." His brother glared at him. "For all you care, I could join the circus as a rare monster. What would you care?"  
  
"I was too young for that job. So were you. And you'd have been able to eat and take care of Mom if Dad weren't such a slacker and drunkard. You know that." Æseri glared back. "I always thought you were the mature one, Lanciro. Your rare blood makes you think you're so great now, is that what it is?"  
  
"I never asked to be a Blue Thunder. And I never asked to have a brother like you. Descendants of Thor… huh." Lanciro's glare grew frosty. "If that were true, I'd tell you to KISS. MY. SKINNY. ASS. You're an idiot and you know it. Get out of my home."  
  
"Join the Blue Devils if you're looking for a job. They'd take you."  
  
"If they took you, big brother, they'll take anyone." Lanciro spat on the ground. "So kindly keep your abnormally large nose out of my business. Now get out of here."  
  
Æseri turned and walked out of the room, tears beginning to trickle down his face. How had everything gone so wrong? He'd wanted to help his family, not toss them even further into poverty…  
  
"It's not my fault!" he said aloud.  
  
"Yes, it is," Lanciro's voice came from the room. "It is and you know it. Go *home*, Æseri. Nobody wants you here." 


	7. I don't feel like giving this chapter a ...

"So what exactly are you trying to tell me? What kind of a point are you trying to make? Do you actually think I would drug Æseri? I'm not that dumb." Jen sighed. "I'm not the only person around here who doesn't like him."  
  
"I'm not saying you're the only suspect here," Falon said tightly. "It could have been anyone. I'm just asking if you know and if not if you have any idea. That's it. Really. That's all I want from you."  
  
"For some reason, I'm surprised." Jen rolled her eyes. "You're an ass, Falon. You have no proof that it wasn't you."  
  
"Professional pride," Falon said as tightly as before. "I wouldn't drug a patient. Outside of the infirmary I might do that to Æseri, but when he's in my care it's important to me that he's kept safe." He pulled himself up, trying—and failing—to look self-important, proud, arrogant and maybe even a little bit dangerous. Whatever he tried, he only succeeded in looking like an idiot.  
  
"Do you expect me to believe that?" Jen glared at him, a very specific glare that signified—among other things—anger and very, very strong disapproval. "Because if you do, then I'm afraid—"  
  
"Do I think that you should believe me? Absolutely. You know I'm telling you the truth, so be a good girl and take your medicine. You won't be pinning this one on me, Miss Jen." Falon smiled widely and arrogantly. "I'm the winner this time."  
  
"I can prove anything I want to prove, my dear Falon. I also am the one who won. It would do you well to remember that. Okay?" Jen sighed, blasted Falon with lightning bolstered by her Gray strength and walked out of the room.  
  
**********  
  
Æseri still couldn't make head or tail out of anything that was happening to him. He felt vaguely aware of something… *somewhere* in the deep recesses of his mind, but he didn't know a thing. It made him angry. He tried to get angry, to struggle, but there was nothing to get angry at and nothing to struggle against but himself…  
  
It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair. Not that anything was, but that was beside the point in this case. It wasn't just unfair. Everything felt just… so *wrong* somehow… too wrong to even be wrong enough…  
  
**********  
  
"So what is all this I've heard about Æseri drugged?" Staunt asked Jen in an overly casual tone.  
  
Jen glared at him. "What about it?"  
  
"Do you know who did it?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Are you sure about that?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Even any idea what happened?"  
  
"No, Staunt. So stop asking." Jen glared at him. "I don't like Æseri at all, and I won't pretend I do, but I wouldn't drug him. Okay? Can somebody believe me for a change?" she sighed. "I don't care at all about him. I won't lie and say that I think anything—meaning anything at all, even in briefest recollection of thoughts—positive about him, but I wouldn't do that to someone. I'm just not that stupid."  
  
"Define 'stupid' when used in this context."  
  
"Maybe it's not even stupid." Jen groaned and gave Staunt an exasperated look. "I'm ambitious, and trying to dispose of Æseri in such an extravagant manner would be impractical, not just irritating. It is a dumb idea and I'd be Prime Suspect number one. If I wanted him dead I'd kill him straight out. I'm more than capable of doing so. You should know that."  
  
"I suppose I should. And I suppose that at least on some level I am perfectly aware of your ability to dispose of the little pain in the ass. But maybe I don't. I'm not a particularly smart man. I've never been known for being smart. I've been known for being able to crush things and kill things… little monsters who were stupid enough to go up against me." Staunt sat on the ground, enveloped for the moment in the misery of his memories.  
  
"Everyone has weaknesses." Jen sat next to him. "You can't blame yourself for that. Nobody can. It's all right, really."  
  
"I know," Staunt said miserably, "That's what makes it so bad."  
  
"Why does that make it worse?"  
  
"It just does."  
  
Jen stood and began to walk away. "I don't understand you, Staunt. Maybe someday I'll be able to, but until then…" she left.  
  
**********  
  
The tall, thin demon was back. Its empty gold eyes narrowed and slanted upward, and its flat face twisted into a horrible grin, its lipless mouth poening to show countless tiny silver-white teeth. Its claws—if indeed they were claws—spread and lengthened, ending in points too narrow to see, sharp and shiny and silver-white as the teeth. It grew taller and broader, its skin a darkening blue, cut by slashes of white… its grin narrowed and its eyes shrunk until Æseri found himself looking into Lanciro's savage, twisted face…  
  
And the great red eye opened again in the back of his mind, larger and more terrible than ever before… the whole eye glowed even redder, more baleful and terrifying, pulsating like a great corrupt heart, red like fresh blood…  
  
The pupil in the center darkened to an empty black, dropping away for a sort of eternity… then it seemed to open; blinding, searing emptiness, tearing into his heart, his soul… baring everything he had hidden, everything he had tried to hide, things he'd forgotten… things he'd tried so hard to forget.  
  
He heard himself scream, but it was detached from him, a totally meaningless sound, as though it were coming from elsewhere. With his heart, mind and soul bared, body screaming from some pain so foreign he didn't even know what it was or even what it was… he faced the demon, the terrible demon, the demon with the face of his brother…  
  
And he knew that it was real… the demon was there, hating as much as it appeared to be hating. It had to be real, the pain, the rage, everything. There was just no way that his own mind could ever, would ever betray him like this, so horribly… his mind could not create such a horrendous vision of pain and terror… no way at all, the possibility of it was too tiny and even what possibility there *was* was illogical and twisted…  
  
The demon advanced on him, grinning horribly, empty gold eyes growing larger again, the face reverting to its original emotionless flatness. The body lost its stocky, powerful shape, reverting to the almost frail thinness… the skin lost the deep blue and bright white coloring it and faded again into the blind, colorless gray.  
  
Then there was nothing but blackness… blackness and the horrible, baleful eye… pulsating like a heart again, dying… the swirling oblivion of the dark pupil seeming to spin faster, spinning out, little tendrils of nothingness, cruelty, hate and pain… among other things.  
  
Æseri heard himself scream again, but like before it was groundless and meaningless… he didn't even feel the pain that caused it, there was no real feeling, no understanding… his heart hammered in his chest, pounding almost like thunder, in sync with the rhythm of the great eye, faster and faster… then every bit of the oblivion spilled from the eye.  
  
And then there was nothing.  
  
**********  
  
Somewhere, far from Kul, a scream tore across the barren wasteland… a scream full of pain and rage and terror… and primal brutality. The creature whirled on its attacker, leaping from its crouch like a streamlined, coiled spring. It screamed again; angry terrified and thirsty for the blood running through the veins of its attacker. The angry creature's teeth snapped shut.  
  
The blow never met the targeted flesh. Lanciro parried the young Cabalos's strike neatly. The teeth hung on to the shaft of his spear as he tried to wrench it free. Realizing that it was uselss to play tug-of-war, he released the spear and whirled around, kicking back with his hind leg to smash his enemy's jaw.  
  
The Cabalos screamed and released the spear, blood dripping from its crushed muzzle. "Is that the best you can do?" Lanciro sneered. "I've seen so much better from your kind… why are you so weak? Why do you fight like a child? …though you are little more. You know that you won't be able to hold out much longer against me, and yet you still won't run? Why is that?"  
  
The Cabalos muttered something under its breath.  
  
"Speak louder!" Lanciro snapped. "I can't hear you!"  
  
"I said…" the words came out of the crushed mouth malformed but understandable. "I said that you will never understand. You are a fool to think that you could. Take your stupid lineage somewhere else. We don't belive that the likes of you could really be the desecndants of Thor. You, of all people!" it coughed and spat blood and several teeth on to the ground. "You cannot understand…  
  
"I can't retreat in a fight. It is not my way, or my fate. They sent me to fight you, and if I run I will be nothing… once nothing for lack of my teeth, twice nothing for running away. They sent me to die at your hand, Thor's son, and that is what I will do. You have helped to keep us strong. You live in our legends, and will forever… as the weak man." It laughed weakly and fell again. "Would you kill me honorably, Thor's son, or would you leave me to die?"  
  
"I will let you live," Lanciro said decisively.  
  
"For how long?" the Cabalos asked him bitterly. "It is only a matter of minutes now, or hours at most. Leave me, Thor's son. There is nothing left for you."  
  
"Who are you?" Lanciro bent over his victim, his eyes growing bright with so many tears he had never shed.  
  
"I… what? I can't hear you…"  
  
"Who ARE you?" Lanciro whispered fircely. "Tell me!"  
  
"Jamai," the Cabalos wheezed, spitting out more blood.  
  
"I can help you, Jamai," Lanciro said softly. "If you'll let me. Do you know who I am?"  
  
Jamai grinned at Lanciro with what was left of his teeth. "You are Lanciro, son of Kela and Pajmat. Brother of Æseri. And you are dead." He reseased a blast of lightning, channeling all of what was left of his strength into the attack that would kill Lanciro. Or so he hoped. 


	8. Into the nightmare

Staunt sat down in his room after his extra training session. He'd been training more and more and already ascended to the rank of Green. That was mostly because of Jen though. She had really seemed to think that he was great. "The one person in my whole damned world who likes me," he said to himself bitterly. "At least the Devils are keeping me busy. I… oh, never mind." He lay down on the floor and tried to sleep, and he almost slept, but fitfully.  
  
His eyes snapped open what seemed almost instantly. There was no sleep to be had. Not tonight.  
  
The moon was full, and it shone an eerie almost-blue color in the night sky… Staunt felt himself relax. The moon… the soft blue glow bathed his body, making it shine with a sort of strange luminescence. "This is what it's all about…" he felt his face twist into a grin. "No fear. No fear at all…"  
  
Then he felt himself grow totally limp, then stiff, then limp again.  
  
**********  
  
Æseri's body jerked around and lay still.  
  
**********  
  
Æseri suddenly found himself in a sea of roiling black stuff. The black surged around him, thick as blood, warm and wet like blood, throbbing like a heartbeat. Above him in slate-grey skies a storm whirled about, the clouds forming words and images that tore at what was left of his heart. Waves of black lifted him up and pitched him about, slamming him back down into the black with crushing force. His arms strained, trying to somehow swim against the current, thrashing and cutting uselessly through the black.  
  
He could not find his spear. The familiar shaft was not in his hands and he missed the familiar weight of the broad, slightly curved blade. His arms flailed, trying to find something, anything to hold, for he could not clutch the spear he had been born with. Tears brimmed in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks, but they were blood, not real tears.  
  
And his hand closed around the shaft of his spear. Well, a spear. Not his. He was flung from the black into the forbidding grey skies. The spear felt simply wrong in his grasp—he did not feel whole. Looking at it, he saw that is *looked* wrong as well. The shaft was darker than that of his own Tiger- blue spear, ending in a tapered black head instead of his own spear's broad, slightly curved silver blade.  
  
Lanciro hurtled from the clouds above him, eyes flaming with raw fury. The bright silver blade of Æseri's own spear cut down at him, the shaft resting comfortably in Lanciro's hands. Muscles flexed in his torso as he swung, but they were the flexion of comfortable almost-challenge, not the hard struggle it should have been to wield another's spear.  
  
Æseri parried and dodged, frantically at first, but as the fight progressed he felt himself begin to distance from it. Everything seemed to be predetermined, as though the were emotionlessly following a script or something. Strike. Parry. Counter-strike. Dodge. Upward slash. Downward parry, thrust. Contact… disarm.  
  
Æseri's spear flew from his brother's hands. Æseri caught it neatly, dropped his brother's spear and struck, eyes spitting fire, the sheer power of the attack making it impossible to parry or dodge. Lanciro fell from the air, catching the end of Æseri's spear.  
  
"Brother… help me. Forgive me…"  
  
Æseri leered at his brother. He drew himself to his full height, rose up on his hind legs and drove the hoof of his right foreleg into Lanciro's face. Lanciro fell, a dark blue blot against the grey skies, and crashed into the sea of black.  
  
A pathway of bright gold cut through the sky, ending at Æseri's feet. Accepting the invitation, he strode along the path, no longer feeling andy pain or despair. Strength and energy filled him, starting at his heart and spreading to his body and limbs. He grew taller and broader, muscle growing all along his arms and torso. His spear grew with him, growing longer and heavier, far too heavy for anyone else to lift, but a comfortable weight in his hands.  
  
He broke into a trot, his hooves making gentle clicking sounds on the path, golden light showering him. He felt light, as if someone had taken the weight out of his body and filled him with air—strong air. He shook himself out, loosening up, throwing drops of the gold light, the light condensing into a sort of fluid, flying about him, forming a sort of halo.  
  
The pathway stretched out further and he kept moving, running faster and faster and faster. A pair of huge doors loomed ahead. Æseri kept running, faster and faster and faster. The doors came closer. Closer… They looked dark and forbidding, not like the rest of his current surroundings. This was no hero's welcome.  
  
He reached the doors and they swung open. A virtually endless pit of blackness sank down from the threshold of the doorway. Æseri edged back, scared all of a sudden. A deep roar filled his ears. The wind blew harder and faster, and the path on which he stood began to tremble. Black rain battered against his halo of gold light and it flickered briefly and disappeared.  
  
The black rain struck his skin. It sizzled slightly against it, burning madly. His arms grew shorter and thinner, the rest of his body doing the same. His spear shrank with him, no longer a weapon of great power. The wind battered against his body, driving him to the doorway and the blackness beyond it.  
  
Æseri leapt out into the dark, knowing that there was no way out of it. The abyss seemed to swallow him up, body and soul and whatever was left of him.  
  
**********  
  
Falon stood by Æseri's body, sweating madly. Yes, the pulse was gone. Yes, the boy was in a coma. No, nothing that he'd tried suggested that there was anything physically wrong with the boy. This wasn't a usual happening. It wasn't even okay. It wasn't *right*. It wasn't supposed to happen to people like Falon.  
  
He sighed and dipped into his Amber power. He didn't want to enter Æseri's mind, as it was a dangerous, frowned-upon practice, but he couldn't really see any other choice. He sent the energy into the young Celios' mind and body, diving into the thoughts, searching desparately for something, anything, that might help him find out what was wring with him. Anything.  
  
The body and mind both at first seemed to be empty. There was no soul, no life, no… well… there was nothing. The emptiness just scared Falon even more. A body was more than just an empty shell, but that was all that this one was.  
  
There was a flare of power and energy, bitter hate and a huge, powerful knot of every horrible emotion and feeling a normal person would feel in a lifetime. Like striking a killing blow. Only… even worse. Falon tried to keep his grip on the mind, but his own mind recoiled in revulsion, nearly losing it. He tried to catch the mind, tried as hard as he could to communicate with it, but there was something that stayed between them… something that Falon couldn't pass on his own.  
  
Suddenly he felt a deep plunge in the knot of emotion, and it thinned out again, disappearing. Jen walked into the room.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
Falon jumped. "Huh? What?"  
  
"What. Are. You. DOING? You look like you've just run a marathon! What happened? You'd better have a good excuse this time, Falon!"  
  
"Well…" Falon paused a moment. "I think Æseri's trapped in the netherworld. Is that enough of an excuse for you?"  
  
Jen said nothing. 


End file.
